


Stitches

by DawnWoodliff



Category: Sirens (TV 2014)
Genre: Angst, Cop AU, F/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just want feedback, Injury, OC, Oneshot, Original Content - Freeform, Sexual Tension, honestly, rather than being an actual fic for sirens, this was more inspired by sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 08:26:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10918068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnWoodliff/pseuds/DawnWoodliff
Summary: Officer Brianna Naranjo's rampage for revenge is cut short when she sustains a serious injury. She can't go to a hospital so she seeks the help of her EMT ex, Ian Pate, who she hasn't seen in years. As he fixes her up, neither are fully prepared for all the memories that come rushing back.Rated teen and up for some suggestive themes and blood.





	Stitches

Rain poured from the sky by the liter. Lightening cracked through the darkened ghetto, igniting the streets like daytime in a split second. A fist flew through the air toward Officer Brianna Naranjo, its owner missing a connection. Brianna dodged the punch with expertise. She reciprocated with a calculated punch to her attacker’s sternum, then swiftly delivering a chop at his throat with her other arm. Water trickled down her head and into her eyes, making the fight all the more difficult on her already fatigued body. She turned to the two Desperados hesitating behind her as the first one fell unconscious. They fearfully pulled out switchblades, clicking sharply as the steel snapped up from its housing. She readied her stance, her clothes stretching as they became drenched in the downpour. Light reflected off of the sharpened blades as the thugs lunged toward her. Reflexes taking over, Brianna flowed through her blocks and jabs as the Desperados swung their knives wildly at her.

However, her feet were not accustomed to such a slippery sparing surface, and lost her stable footing. This opened her ribs to the attacker on the right; he took his opportunity to slash her side through her jacket, raking her ribcage. Brianna shouted in surprised agony, distracted from the second thug behind her. As she disarmed and knocked out her side-swiper, the second drove his knife into Brianna’s left shoulder blade. Hot pain racked through her entire body. Her vision temporarily went white and all she could comprehend was the foreign steel stabbing into her back. She turned toward the gangster, shock legible on her face. A surprised look of triumph took over his features. He thought he won. But unlike anyone else he had tortured for Martín Iglesias, pain didn’t demoralize Brianna Naranjo; it angered her. The Desperado saw Brianna’s face change from pain to defiant determination as her right arm reached over her shoulder and started to pull the switchblade from her back. Brianna forgot her initial plan, too enraged to form logical thought. Without regard for the fear in the man’s eyes, she surged toward him with his own knife in her hand. When Brianna regained her composure, she had to pick herself off of the now unmoving gangster. He was dead. She had no one to tell her where she could find Martín Iglesias, and now, she realized as she put a hand to her side, she was bleeding without a foreseeable end.

 

* * *

Naranjo headed toward 34th and Johnson. It wasn’t far of a walk but already she was beginning to feel lightheaded. She couldn’t go to a hospital. That wasn’t even an option. An alert had already been put out on her for going rogue and Brianna was not going jeopardize her personal mission by doing something that stupid. To a hospital she couldn’t go, but medical attention she needed. That was why she was here. This was the next best thing.

Desperately clutching her right side, Brianna stumbled up to the familiar front door of 3412 Johnson Street. The mail box read “Pate” in simple lettering, shining wet in the relentless downpour. Naranjo tried to ready herself. In three years, she never imagined to be at this doorstep ever again. She never thought she would be knocking on this door, to see his face, not after the way things were left.

She didn’t even know what to say, but the ebbing pain in her back and ribs made her raise her hand to knock. The adrenaline was subsiding and Brianna was beginning to feel exhausted. She suddenly realized that it was late and the likelihood of anyone being awake was extremely low. Naranjo was just about to leave when she heard the door unlock.

 

* * *

Ian was painting his newest model car when he heard a firm knock on his front door. His shift had been switched around, keeping his sleep schedule hectic. He found meditation in this new hobby. It occupied his time when nothing was good on TV and it kept his hands busy. He wiped his brush and hands on an old dish cloth as he rose from his kitchen chair. He strode down the hall toward the front door, his bare feet lightly padding along the hardwood. He stopped just short of the door, pausing to load the handgun that rested on the small table by the door. Ian knew he lived on the edge of a rough neighborhood and a knock at 2 o’clock in the morning couldn’t mean anything good. He unlocked the door, pulling it open enough to identify the late night caller.

There stood the woman he had tried so hard to forget and move on from. Ian couldn’t exactly pinpoint his first thoughts upon seeing her. Time seemed to pause long enough for him to comprehend that it was the exact same Brianna Naranjo that he had loved and lost exactly three years ago. She was soaking wet and looked exhausted, but she was as beautiful as the day he met her.

 

_He excitedly opened the door knowing the girl he asked out was right behind it. She was standing with a bright, mischievous smile. “Hi,” she said, biting her lip flirtatiously. “Hey,” he returned, drinking in every inch of her. She looked around expectantly. “Can I come in?” He was silent, lost in her radiance. “Ian?.....Ian!”_

 

He only broke from his trance when he heard Brianna begin to pant with pain.

“Ian,” Brianna said in between pained breaths, “I need your help.”

 

* * *

_He took her hand and led her down the hall to his bedroom. Both were giggling with anticipation of what was going to happen next._

 

Ian led Brianna into the dining room, pulling out a chair for her to sit in. She flipped it around with her bloody left hand, smearing the wood with a crimson hand print, and sat in the seat backwards.

 

_They reached the bedroom, sharing a kiss before breaking apart. He gave her a smirk. “Okay, let’s see what you got.”_

 

“Okay, let’s see what you got.”

 

_With a crooked smile, she removed her jacket._

 

With a grimace, Brianna removed her jacket gingerly. Ian took a look at the two weeping gashes shining through the fabric of her shirt. This was a bad situation, but definitely not the worst Ian had seen when he used to work as an EMT. Ian ran to retrieve his kit from the kitchen. Through the pain, Brianna took a second to look at the dining room. Nothing had changed since she had seen it last. Ian hadn’t changed either. To her disliking, he had managed to stay in shape, making it harder for her to ignore just how attractive she forgot he was. Ian came back, handing Brianna a large pad of gauze.

 

_He took in her silhouette. He longingly shook his head. “That shirt has to come off.”_

 

“That shirt has to come off.” Brianna shot him a dirty look.

“Hey, it’s either that or I have to snip the shirt open. Then you’ll just have a ruined shirt.” Brianna paused to consider this.

 

_She crossed her arms at her hips, lifting her shirt off her body and over her head._

 

She allowed it to collapse in a wet heap on the floor, leaving her in her black sports bra. A tiny part in the very back of Ian’s mind, he took note of how muscular Brianna was. But this thought was stifled by the training that was hammered into his mind, allowing him to concentrate on Brianna’s wounds and not her body.

 

_“Now, get on that bed,” he gently ordered. She gave him a naughty smile as she sauntered to the bed._

 

“Now put pressure on your ribs with the gauze,” Ian gently ordered. Brianna did as she was told, not having enough energy to argue. As she did this, Ian snapped on a pair blue latex gloves and placed a needle in a ready dish of alcohol. He lightly touched the wound on Brianna’s shoulder, testing its sensitivity.

 

_His hands pressed on her back pushing her into the bed. His nails lightly digging into her smooth skin._

 

Brianna hissed sharply.

“Okay, as a medical professional, I have to advise that you go to a hospital to get this stitched up,” Ian informed her with concern, keeping his voice calm. He had done patch jobs on Brianna in the past but none of them ever looked this brutal.

“As a medical professional you can shut your mouth!” Brianna immediately winced. “No hospitals,” Brianna managed through clenched teeth, “I just need to get the bleeding stopped. I don’t have enough time to go to a hospital.” Against his better judgement, Ian began working on the gash.

 

_He gently kissed her back, grazing her left shoulder blade with his lips. This sent shivers throughout her body._

 

He began irrigating it, dabbed at it with an iodine-soaked gauze. He needed to occupy Brianna’s mind so she wouldn’t move while he stitched her up. Ian began to make conversation.

 

_“So what do you do for a living?” They were sprawled out on the bed, sheets tangled around them, trying to cool off. He was rubbing small circles on her arm as she began telling him more about herself._

 

“Why can’t you go to a hospital? What’s your hurry?”

“You’re trying to distract me with that EMT trick of yours,” Brianna stated humorlessly.

Ian smiled, still working on her wound. “You picked up on that, huh?”

“Are you kidding? That’s your signature. You were always the conversationalist.”

Ian briefly considered this statement. “I suppose that’s true.”

He picked up the needle and threaded it with thick black suture. “I need you to relax.”

 

_“I need you to relax,” he whispered into her ear as he tightened the handcuffs around her wrist._

 

He felt Brianna tense up in anticipation. He could see the muscles in her back and shoulders bunch up under her smooth caramel skin.

“I said relax.”

 

_He ran his hand from her calf up the inside her thigh, letting the anticipation make her fidget._

 

He positioned the needle at the top of the gash. He waited for Brianna to let out the breath she was holding. She couldn’t hold it forever. He saw her shoulders relax as she blew out stale air. He seized the opportunity and inserted the needle and began to stitch.

 

_She gasped with heated surprise._

 

Brianna exclaimed disappointedly, “I should’ve known you would have pulled that.”

Ian smiled through his concentration. “Yeah, you’re a wiggler.”

 

_She squirmed in her bindings._

 

“No, I’m not,” Brianna argued, no note of playfulness detected in her voice. Ian wondered to himself what had happened to make Brianna so clammed up and bitter.

“So you still haven’t answered my question,” Ian continued to insert the needle and draw the thread through. He tied the next knot as he waited for her answer.

After a sigh, Brianna replied, “I’m going after Iglesias.”

Ian paused, processing her answer. “The drug lord, Martín Iglesias?”

“Yeah,” Brianna quipped.

“Can I ask why?” Ian continued casually.

 

_“I want to end drug crime, and if you take down Iglesias the whole operation falls apart. We’ve caught some of his Desperados, but they won’t rat him out. The guy is a total ghost.” He loved the way her face lit up when she talked about her job._

 

“He killed Alex.”

Ian took a beat to think of his response. Alex had been Brianna’s partner for a long time. They were as close as siblings. Ian had read Alex’s obituary in the paper not too long ago.

“I heard about Alex,” Ian replied solemnly, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I need this patched up. Iglesias has to pay.”

Ian finally understood why Brianna was so bitter. Silence hung between them like a thick fog, leaving him to focus on stitching the raw flesh on Brianna’s shoulder with unease.

 

_“Oh, do you play,” she asked, pointing to the guitar sitting in the corner. He smiled sheepishly. “Only by myself. I’ve never really played for anyone else.” She got up off the bed, wearing his button-down. She picked up the guitar by its neck. “Play me something.” He nervously ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” “Please,” she pouted._

 

He began to hum absent-mindedly. He did this whenever he was left in silence. Unlike Brianna, silence made Ian uncomfortable. The tune he was humming was a simple and familiar. It was something anyone could pick up and soon Brianna was humming along.

 

_“…my mind was aching and we were making it and you shook me all night long…” They howled together, drinks forgotten on the coffee table. It was two a.m. and their cheeks were red with alcohol. Both had a long day at work and just needed to forget about the real world for a little bit. This was their little escape. Their permission slip to just let world melt away and only leave them to be alone with each other. On these types of nights he strummed on his guitar, she banged on the coffee table keeping time, and both belted lyrics in the best voices the booze would let them have._

 

Ian broke out into a power ballad that was a signature of the eighties. Both were humming without flaw. Brianna took over humming the lead melody while Ian cover backup vocals cutting in with obnoxious vocalized guitar riffs. They both ended the duet in a fit of giggles.

Brianna couldn’t help herself. Her giggles turned to full on laughter. She couldn’t stop. Ian began laughing too. When her side began hurting, “Ow, ow,” was all Brianna could manage between laughs. Through giggles, Ian finished the suture on Brianna’s shoulder.

Ian positioned his chair to Brianna’s side. “Here, let’s get this one done.” Brianna gingerly removed the gauze from the wound on _her ribs._

 

_As he held her sides, he kissed her stomach, then let his lips wander up her body. He swiftly shifted, picking her up with ease. He gripped the undersides of her thighs to support her weight. His eyes were filled awe as he looked into hers. She wrapped her legs around his waist and kissed him deeply, letting her arms drape over his shoulders._

 

Brianna carefully rested her arm over Ian’s shoulder to keep it out of his way. Their closeness felt both foreign and natural to her. It had been years since she had touched this man and yet she was able to slip back into the familiarity like the three years apart had not happened. She could smell his cologne, bringing back too many memories to count. She pondered on this while Ian began to stitch up the four inch gash.

As the needle glided through the layers of skin, Ian’s mind wondered to the past. He remembered fondly to the times when he and Brianna would have a movie night and wind up on the floor laughing at the commentary they made, hardly paying any attention to the film itself. There were many moments like that, where they were so wrapped up with each other that they briefly forgot their troubles.

“I miss this,” Ian murmured.

“What?” Brianna inquired, her tone significantly lighter, “The late night patch jobs or my bleeding all over your dining room floor?”

“No,” Ian briefly glanced up, “I mean us. We had a lot of fun together.”

Brianna looked ahead, her smile falling. “It wasn’t all fun, Ian. If you remember, there was a lot of yelling too.”

 

_“Why am I always the one to clean up after you?”_

 

Ian did remember.

 

_“Maybe if you spent a little less time worrying about where I put my dirty dishes and more time on your homework, you would’ve become a doctor by now!”_

 

There were probably more fights than there was laughter. There were arguments about every subject one could think of and then some. Both would go to bed angry only to wake up to an awkward make up the next morning, realizing the argument wasn’t all that important.

 

_“Yeah? Well maybe I would have more time for homework if I didn’t have to stitch you up every week and a half!”_

 

“There was a lot of yelling,” Ian finally agreed, “But there also was a lot of love.”

 

_He gently pushed a stray lock of hair out her face as they stared at each other, too tired to say anything. She smiled as her eyes drifted closed to fall asleep next to him._

 

Ian finished the last stitch with a final tug. He clipped the suture adding, “Why couldn’t we make it work?”

They both stood up at the same time, not realizing their close proximity to one another. They paused, locking eyes, their chests only inches from each other. Their breaths mingled as memories began to flood their minds. Heat rose to their cheeks as they simultaneously remembered what typically transpired when they were this close to each other. Now they couldn’t do that anymore. No matter how much they wanted to. But Ian’s question still lingered between them. Why couldn’t they make it work? If one of them were to move only a few more inches they could relive it all. Every smile, every laugh, every touch. Brianna stole a quick glance at Ian’s lips. Every kiss. She pressed her own lips together to suppress the memory of how Ian’s mouth fit perfectly against hers. How warm his skin felt when there was no space between them at all. When the world melted away and it felt as if they were the last people on earth. She was curious if he still kissed the same. If he still lightly bit the bottom lip of his partner just to savor the kiss a little longer. She wondered what would happen if she satisfied her curiosity. Her mind shot back to her plan. The plan to take down Iglesias. She broke eye contact and took a small step away from her chair. Ian’s expression seemed to fall, but looked on to see how her stitches looked now that he was finished.

Brianna looked down at the stiches on her ribs, satisfied with the work. She moved her right arm around in a slow circle, testing her mobility.

“Be careful,” Ian warned, “You don’t want to rip them out.” He quickly made gauze patches and taped them onto her stiches. Brianna scoffed and rolled her eyes as she went to grab her jacket.

“You know, that’s why we couldn’t make it work,” she said coolly, zipping her jacket sharply.

“What?” Ian couldn’t understand the sudden change in Brianna’s mood.

“You never believed I could handle myself,” she answered darkly.

“What are you talking about, Brianna? I’ve always believed in you.”

Brianna scoffed incredulously. “Not when I lead that drug bust, or went undercover, or when I wanted to join the FBI.” Brianna put emphasis on the last point. It was clear to Ian that she was particularly salty towards him. He was at a loss for words. Brianna continued. “Every time I had an opportunity to do something great, you were always there to bring me down. You’d tell me how it was a bad idea or that I wouldn’t be able to do it.”

“That’s not how it happened Brianna and you know it!” Ian shot back. “I’ve always wanted great things for you!”

“Yeah? Then why did you put up such a fight about me taking that FBI job in Dallas? If you wanted great things for me you should’ve helped me pack, not talk me out of it!” Brianna’s voice was beginning to rise. They both felt more familiar in this territory, yelling at each other.

“I didn’t want you to leave, Brianna. I loved you. If you left, I would have been left here all alone.”

Brianna paused, caught off guard. “You didn’t want me to leave? Then why didn’t you just come with me?”

Ian was at a loss. “I… didn’t want to move. I’ve lived here my whole life. I’m perfectly happy here.”

“Then you would have been perfectly happy without me!” Brianna tossed back. “Jesus Christ, that’s your problem, Ian. You’re too afraid of change. You never step outside of your comfort zone. You would be perfectly content with doing the same goddam thing every day for the rest of your life if you could. And I made the mistake of falling for you. I let you talk me out of my dream.”

“Well, what was stopping you? You know, I think you were too afraid and were just looking for an excuse to not go. You didn’t even put up a fight for your dream, Brianna. You turned down that job the day after I asked you to stay. You could’ve told me to go to hell with missing you, but you just short changed yourself and stayed. I might like things to stay the same but at least I can admit that to myself, Brianna.” Brianna was steaming, yet Ian continued. “And on that crap about your drug bust and undercover work. It wasn’t that I didn’t think you could do it. I knew you would succeed or die trying. And that was what I was scared of. I was afraid that you wouldn’t come home in one piece.”

 

_She walked through the door silently. “Hey honey,” he called from the kitchen. “How was work?” She staggered into the kitchen, looking around, her eyes glassy. “Honey? What’s wrong?” He turned to get a better look at her. She stared blankly at him, tightly clutching her right shoulder. Blood was dripping out of her right sleeve, pooling on the tiled floor._

 

“I can handle myself!” Brianna managed through gritted teeth.

 

_She screamed in absolute agony. The initial shock was wearing off, allowing her to feel all the pain that went with being shot in the shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, honey. It looks like it was just a through-and-through. I can get it stitched up in no time.” Hot tears rolled down her cheeks as she pressed her forehead to his, looking for comfort in his touch_.

 

“Obviously not,” Ian gestured to her ribs, “when you’re coming to me at two in the morning bleeding to death. You realize how many times I had to give you stitches because you had to prove to everyone that you could do it but then go out half-cocked and get hurt?”

 

_“Can’t you just pop it back into place?” She looked up from her misshapened shoulder to him. He felt like he was looking at a three year old wondering why they just couldn’t put together the vase she just broke rather than a twenty-seven year old who just had her shoulder dislocated and knee torn open by falling off of a chain-link fence. This was becoming a norm he was quickly growing tired of._

 

“That’s not -” Brianna began, but Ian cut her off.

“Fifteen. In the three years we were together, I had to stitch you up fifteen times. And those are just the ones you refused to go to the hospital for. Every time you would be on duty I would listen to the dispatch in the ambulance, hoping I wouldn’t hear your car number. So if you’re pissed that I didn’t want you go on high risk assignments then I’m sorry. I just wanted my girlfriend to come home to me.”

 

_“I can’t do this anymore!” “Yeah, back at ya!”_

 

“How dare you!” Brianna’s face darkened. “That was the risk I signed up for when I became a cop. It’s what Alex took on when he became a cop too. Don’t take that away from him. It was his choice to put his life on the line to protect and serve. He knew what he was doing. He knew there was a chance he wouldn’t come home.” Brianna’s voice broke. Hot, angry tears broke the surface as she turned her face away. Seeing her like that made Ian’s eyes well up. He didn’t know what to do. He could only stand there while the most defiant person he knew was reduced to a bitter shadow of her original vibrance.

Brianna tried to keep her tears under control. She had not allowed herself to show this kind of vulnerability at Alex’s funeral, yet now the guilt was leaking through, running down her cheek in hot, wet streaks. Even though they knew the risk, it was her fault Alex didn’t survive the assignment to take down Iglesias. She hadn’t thought through what the plan was. She did go in half-cocked like she always did and Alex took the bullet for her. But not this time. Not tonight. Brianna spent months planning for this night and she wasn’t going to let Iglesias keep preying on her neighborhood and she wasn’t going to let Alex’s death be meaningless.

Brianna wiped her tears with the back of her sleeve. She had to get herself together. If she was going to get Iglesias she had to leave shortly.

 

_She stood at his door, a box full of her stuff keeping her arms too full to get open it. He sat at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee, refusing to acknowledge her presence._

 

“Look Ian,” Brianna began with a sniff, “I didn’t come here to discuss our relationship problems.”

“I know,” Ian said gently.

 

_He didn’t move from his seat on the couch when he heard her struggling to open the door with her full hands. He sipped his tea nonchalantly when he heard the crash of the box hitting the ground and spilling her stuff. He didn’t move when he heard her swear as she gathered her things. He only moved to refill his cup when he heard the door slam shut._

 

“There were things that we were good at Ian, and going a day straight without wanting to tear each other’s heads off was not one of them.”

“Yeah,” Ian said with a slight smile, “we really knew where to hit each other where it hurts.”

“I don’t want to relive that, Ian. We’re just not worth it.”

Ian took a deep breath, looking sightlessly ahead. “You’re right. There wasn’t anything there but the superficial stuff. We never really shared the same likes or dreams.” Ian sighed, straightening up a little as if a weight had been lifted off of him.

“Exactly,” Brianna agreed. “Look, I’m sorry for coming here and stirring up ancient crap, I just really had nowhere else to go and I’m on a serious time crunch. Thank you for stitching me up. You really are a life saver.”

“No problem, Brianna.” Ian moved to meet her eye to eye. “I actually really needed this. I’ve been running around with this unresolved weight on my shoulders and I didn’t realize I needed closure. So I’m the one that should be thanking you.”

Ian extended his hand to Brianna. With a half-smile, she took it. “It’s was good seeing you, even though the circumstances could have been better.”

Brianna scoffed with a wide grin. “I’d say anything is better than halfway bleeding to death.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Ian said with a chuckle, but his grin faded. “Brianna, whatever you plan on doing, just be careful.”

Brianna nodded determinedly. “Don’t worry. I will.”

He wordlessly walked her to the front door. From there he watched her walk down the street. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy and cool. He locked the door and returned to the dining room to clean up. On the floor was Brianna’s wet shirt, left without a second thought. Ian picked it up, leaving a small puddle on the floor. There were two holes in the shirt, rendering it useless and not worth the time it would take to repair it. He held it in his hands, contemplating on keeping it, maybe to send it back to her at some time in the future. It was just a shirt. There was nothing special about it. One could go to just about any clothing store and pick up this type of shirt. But it was her shirt, Ian told himself. Then he realized that if this shirt were that important to her, Brianna would have remembered to take it with her. He walked to the kitchen, stepping on the trash can pedal to open the lid and dropped the shirt in without hesitation. He finished the rest of the cleaning, then went to bed.

Ian awoke the next morning from one of the deepest sleeps he could remember having. By the time he had finished pouring his first cup of coffee, he heard the morning paper hit his doorstep. He opened the paper to scan the overnight news when a small paragraph caught his eye. _Drug Lord Martín Iglesias Found on Hospital Front Door in Critical Condition, Police are Baffled_. Ian couldn’t help but read on.

**Author's Note:**

> This scene has always been in my head but I finally was inspired to write it when I watched Sirens. It isn't a Sirens fic per se but it definitely inspired the characters. I would love feedback. This will only ever be one chapter but I will probably make minor changes to make it better or correct mistakes. 
> 
> Thanks for reading.


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